Illicitör Songtext
von Hellslaught

Seeding obeisance, puritan monocrop
Sucking all passions
They spit with distaste
Like vultures
Picking the bones of dreams
Better to burn the fields
Than suffer a lamb to stray


A sneer proud and teeth-bared
Sardonic eyes that scowl
A spear ripping your entire fabric
Hedonic enthroned by obscenity

I am the lord of all vices
I am enflame of passions
I negate your equation
I deny

Jackal judges circling aberrance
Salivating
For cold beating in backrooms
Clutch of rust and armour of paper
Better to burn the garden
Than suffer a weed to bloom